


My Safe Person (X Drake x Hawkins)

by crapitskizaru



Category: One Piece
Genre: Highschool AU, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Upsetting themes, bad language, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 19:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18300521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crapitskizaru/pseuds/crapitskizaru
Summary: What's going to happen to Drake when it turns out there's not one person around who he can confide in?





	1. Chapter 1

"Aw, seriously? Failed again?" Ace mewled loudly so that the whole class could hear. Then he turned to Drake with that mischievous grin that he used whenever he knew he was going to say something funny. So Drake managed to mentally prepare himself for this shot before it was fired. 

"I thought I  _aced_ it!"

Fits of giggles erupted through the room, but were soon cut off by the teacher. 

"Ace, I wouldn't be cracking jokes if I were you. That test was one of the easy ones," Mr. Mihawk said from behind his desk. He fixed his glasses, which usually meant he's going to get into a prolonged monologue about how dumb teenagers are becoming. 

_Easy one_ ,  _huh_ , Drake thought, staring at the F mark on his paper. 

"Oh, you got an F too! Fist bump!" Ace grinned, his hand extended in expectation. 

Everytime Drake looked at him, he wondered where does this boy's enthusiasm come from. His silky hair tied up in a messy bun with a tiny, pink elastic, a smudge of ketchup and lipstick on his cheek, dark hickey on the skin of his neck and a creased shirt put on backwards - Ace seemed like the happiest person in the world. 

Drake couldn't help but envy him as he returned the fist bump with a slight smile. 

As soon as the bell rang, he was already stuffing his backpack and ready to storm out of the classroom with the rest of the students. 

"Drake." Mr. Mihawk took off his glasses, his hands steepled, fingers tapping together. 

Drake's gut did an instant backflip - the teacher had something in his manner that made him feel uneasy. Getting straight F's in his class might have had something to do with as well, but that wasn't important. 

"Your situation's not good," he said, as if he was a doctor giving him a fatal diagnosis. "Not good at all.  Were you planning to fix it or should I just keep you in this class for another year?" 

A wave of heat washed over his body when his mind went completely blank. Drake imagined his thoughts, colliding with each other and screaming nonsense. He wished he could just dig a hole in the front yard and bury himself in it. 

"Yes, sir," he finally coughed out. "I can fix it. I'll write the next test better." 

Even though Mr. Mihawk never looked pleased, Drake's answer seemed to be at least satisfactory. The man hummed and stacked his papers. 

"Good. Oh, and Drake?" he added when the boy was already halfway through almost jumping out of the room. "Go get some goddamn help, kid." 

Later on, when the whole cafeteria was buzzing with stressed but still lively students, Drake munched half-heartedly on his sandwich, barely listening to Ace's usual rants. His mind kept going back to Mr. Mihawk's words. 

_Why would he say something like that? By "help", did he mean a tutor? Or was it-_

"-So yeah, and then we made out," Ace grinned at him from the other side of the table. "It was awesome." 

"I'm sure," Sabo muttered. "No one needed to know about the details, though." 

The blonde brother seemed a little bit out of depth, but his worried look was soon replaced by a cheerful one when his girlfriend took a seat right next to him. Drake liked her, mainly because he saw how responsible she became whenever Sabo and his brothers caused any kind of trouble. Which was almost all the time. 

Koala sent him a warm smile, her hand instinctively reaching for Sabo's. The boy looked like the whole world just shifted and instead of in an austere school cafeteria, they were in a magical Disneyworld. 

Drake realized he was the only gloomy one at the table, so his face instantly lit up with a smirk. 

Just when he was about to drop a casual conversation starter, a loud laughter erupted in the center of the room. 

"Ay, you for real, dude?" Kid asked, patting someone on the back. "Hey, y'all heard him?!" 

The only thing Drake could make out of the situation was the fact that Law, who turned out to be the one repeatedly hit on the back, was sitting at Kid's table, which happened almost as often as Law getting an A- on any kind of exam - so in one word,  _never_. 

"Party at my place! Saturday!" Kid yelled again, earning himself an immerse cheer from the whole cafeteria. "You still think no one likes me?" 

The last question was added more quietly towards Law, making the grumpy boy grimace. 

"We'll see about that, Eustass-ya." 

When the first wave of excitement died down, Ace turned in his seat to face the whole table again, his face lit up as the fourth of July. The turn was so vigorous, the pink hair elastic snapped and caused all of the raven hair to fall into Ace's face. The boy barely registered that.

_Cute_ , Drake thought, but immediately scolded himself. 

"We have to go together." Ace's eyes sparkled with joy. "Don't tell Thatch, though." 

"Why not?" His brother finally unglued his eyes from Koala, eyebrows furrowed. From what Drake knew, Thatch was also the responsible friend, giving anyone who blacked out at parties a lift. He saved Ace's ass thousands of times, which seemed to make him feel uneasy - he owed him a lot, but didn't know how to pay all the favours back. 

"I like Thatch," Drake decided to speak. "He drove me home once."

"Yeah, of course we're bringing him along." 

Ace shot his brother a lethal stare. 

"Great." 

 


	2. Chapter 2

He took off the sweatshirt with a penguin print all over it. It was baggy, but not baggy enough, and it still uncovered most of the bruises on his neck. 

Drake stood there, half-naked in front of the mirror. His eyes slowly moved along the red marks on his arms where father's grip tightened last week, through the purple lines on his collarbone from the nervous scratching of his fingers and to the huge, X-shaped scar on his chest. 

Only a couple months before he'd have broken down at the mere sight of it. Fortunately for himself, he noticed his brain turning somehow cold and distant whenever he felt like crying - so now the only indication of his fear was just a tightly-clenched jaw. 

He pulled the zipper all the way up to his neck. 

The blue eyes that stared back at him from the mirror quickly became emotionless, which made him proud. He was in control. 

Even though he knew he wasn't going to get laid that night, or wasn't even planning on it, he made sure to look his best. A sprinkle of cologne behind his ears, an more-than-usual amount of hair gel and a concealer was all it took to be satisfied . 

He tried to open the bathroom's door soundlessly and leave the house as quickly as possible, so that his father won't notice him - Thatch promised to give him a lift, per usual, and Drake didn't want to be late. 

"Going already?" 

His heart skipped a beat when he saw his father in the corridor. He had a newspaper in his hand and a mug of coffee in the other - the look of the most normal dad in the world, which Drake caught himself on actually considering, at least until he mentally scolded himself. 

_He's not your ally_ , the thought ran through his brain. 

"Yes, a friend is throwing a party. I'll be home early," he added the last part just in case. 

"And they invited you? That's good!" 

Drake crumpled the hem of his jacket, his lip hurting from biting it for too long already. Father occupied the whole space of a corridor, there was no way he could pass him. 

"Have fun," he said and smiled. "But take that jacket off. I don't like it." 

"But  _I_ like it. And I want to wear it." 

Despite the looming perspective of a fight, Drake didn't want to put his obedient act on again. Especially not in such a trivial matter - but, to be frank, most of their fights were over trivialties that other people wouldn't even put a single thought into. 

"It doesn't look good on you. Take it off." 

A familiar wave of heat pulsed through his body, he could feel the rushed pounding of the blood in his veins. An overwhelming surge of anxiety made him clench his jaw to at least drag away the moment of him breaking down - he couldn't do that in front of  _him_ , completely exposed, certainly no. 

Helplessness was what made it so unbearable. Because just what was he supposed to do? No matter what he says, he's going to be the bad one - the wrong one, the disobedient one. And no matter what he does, it always ends the same. 

_Not this time_ , Drake thought.  _Thatch's waiting for me._

Just then, when the silence reached its peak, the faint sound of a notification made him flinch in surprise. 

**Thatch** : You coming? 

Drake put the phone in the pocket of his jeans. He knew he lost when the tears dwelled in his eyes - he just couldn't help it. The sight of a message from a person who had no idea what was going on, but more importantly, a person who was  _kind_ to him even though there was no need for that - it felt so different, so weird, he couldn't help but cry. 

"Why are you crying, boy? Just take the jacket off and you can go," his father said, sipping the coffee. He acted casual, but his eyes remained cold. Drake knew what that man was capable of doing. 

 "Thank you for the advice. I'll be going now." He gulped down a painful bump in his throat. Is that really how he talked to a family member? As if it was a formal meeting, not a casual conversation a teenager has with their dad before going to a party. 

He tried to sneak past him, but he grabbed his forearm and pressed him slightly against the wall. Drake's breathing immediately hitched, and the boy prayed to God for this to finally end. He could have just obeyed. He could have listened, and there would be no problem. But his pride, the pride that he still managed to raise and tend somewhere deep in his soul, despite all of the humiliation he experienced, just wouldn't let him take the easy choice. 

"Are you  _retarded_? Didn't you hear what I just said? Give me that fucking jacket, boy." 

_Run_ , his brain commanded, and he listened. 

His arm maneuvered from the tight grasp and as soon as he felt it break free, he stormed to the door - seconds later, he was already on the street, his whole body drenched with sweat. 

The black Impala honked. 

"Hey, how you doin'?" Thatch chirped when Drake got in the car, his breathing still ragged and tears glistening in his eyes. He tried to blink them away, but it just caused them to fall on his cheeks. 

"I'm good. Thanks for the lift." It was hard to talk with his throat clenched, but he tried his best. His arm still hurt, but he ignored it. 

"Are you sure everything's fine?" Thatch looked worried; thankfully he started the engine and soon the contours of the house were left far behind. 

"Absolutely." 

Normally, Drake would have put on a better act than this - and with no problems convince his friend that, indeed, everything was great. This time he just didn't have the energy for it, especially since he felt his hands starting to shake out of nerves, both from what just happened and the perspective of social interaction with people he barely knew. 

Alright, he knew Ace. They sat at the same desk for years, he laughed at his jokes and shared their frustration over their low marks on tests - but that was it. Drake's already gotten to hear all about Ace's family, the embarrassing stories about his brothers and how Newgate, their father, didn't like when they brought their dates home. 

Drake wished to have such complaints. 

And did Ace ever ask about his life? His childhood stories? His mother? 

Part of him was glad that Ace didn't - he wouldn't have anything to say anyway. But the sheer realization that his friend just didn't  _care_ enough to ask about it was simply crushing. 

"Alright then." Thatch forced a smile and hit the radio. "I gotta pick some of my friends too." 

Drake nodded, tuning into the song now blasting through the speakers -  **I'm a Mess**  by Bebe Rexha. He knew the lyrics by heart, and even though he wasn't the one who got played by his love, the song still made him emotional. 

_He don't love me, he don't love me_  
But that's okay  
'Cause I love me, yeah, I love me  
Yeah, I love me  
Yeah, I love myself anyway

He tried to focus on the changing landscape behind the window, but his thoughts kept coming back home. Could he even call it that way? Home? 

Thatch's gaze drifted sideways to check on him every few seconds, but thankfully he kept quiet. It was pretty likely that if Drake hears another _"Are you okay?"_  question, he's going to break down crying. 

_Everything's gonna be alright_  
Everything's gonna be okay  
It's gonna be a good, good, life  
That's what my therapist say

He realized he's been holding his breath. As the Impala was passing through the road, a distant memory flew in - a memory his brain tried really hard to repress. 

One time, just one time he decided to seek help, few years back. He came to school bruised and in tears, directing his steps towards the counselor's office; who else if not  _she_ could help him? 

It was the first person to ever hear his whole story. Or, rather, a part of it, since Drake got up and left when she yawned for the second time halfway through his sentence. And he never reached out to anyone after that. 

"Oh, great," Thatch murmured, peeking at the screen of his phone. "Sabo just texted me that he and Ace are already there." - he looked at the second part of the message and groaned. "And they forgot about Zoro." 

_Everything's gonna be alright_  
Everything's gonna be just fine  
It's gonna be a good, good life

"How could they just forget a person?" Drake asked, clamping his hand around the hem of the jacket. 

"Probably on purpose. Sounds much like Ace to me." 

Drake shot him a glance. Could it really be just about some unpaid favours? It was almost certain that there was more between Ace and Thatch than meets the eye, but Drake figured he should be the last person to pry into someone's business. 

 The car's engine hummed pleasantly as the night outside was becoming darker with each second. It was all so peaceful - a kind person by his side, safe place that let him relax and a familiar voice on the radio; he wished it lasted forever. 


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm gonna kill that bastard." 

Drake snorted at Zoro's low growl from the backseat. They finally picked him up, after fifteen minutes of driving around the same area in search. 

Zoro had his workout clothes on and his hair was still a bit ruffled, he must have been at the gym not so long ago. 

"He told me I should go back and check if I locked the door! I can't believe I got played li-" 

"Chill, man. Ace probably meant it as a joke, don't take it personally." Thatch peeked at the greenie in the rear-view mirror. 

"Oh, I sure as hell  _will_ take it personally," Drake heard Zoro mutter under his breath, but their driver just smiled warmly. His GPS showed a complicated route, but Kid's house wasn't the destination. 

_Another friend to pick up_ , Drake thought. Seriously, how kind could this guy get? He probably wouldn't say  _no_ to driving them all back home after the party, but Drake wasn't planning on pushing it too far. There's always some bus-ride to catch. 

The radio was now playing Cardi B, and despite his preferences leaning more towards love songs, Drake couldn't help but hum along.

_Now I like dollars, I like diamonds_  
I like stunting, I like shining  
I like million dollar deals  
Where's my pen? Bitch I'm signin'

His heart skipped a beat when Thatch let go of the wheel for a second to make a peace sign and accent the last verse. The brunette seemed so cheerful and full of life, it was somehow adorable. Even Zoro leaned over with his arms wrapped around the back of their seats, a mischievous smirk on his lips - he might have already forgotten about how angry he was at Ace just mere minutes ago. 

"So," Zoro started, chuckling like a devil. "You guys with someone tonight?" 

A loud series of awkward coughs followed the question. 

"Ay, Thatchy, I knew you're all in for it. Don't you give me that look." 

"'Don't know what you're talking about," Thatch muttered and the car suddenly turned right, throwing them all to the side, with Zoro almost banging his head on the dashboard. 

"T-Thatch, are you-" 

"We're here." 

Drake's question was interrupted, but the boy soon forgot about that when his gaze landed on the person standing near the road.  _Another friend._

Despite the weather being slightly chilly, he wore a simple coat that uncovered his bare chest. Chest ripped with pure abs, Drake couldn't help but notice, but that wasn't important. The next thing he spotted was the golden hair - long and flowing in the wind. Even though the guy was simply standing on the pavement, under one arm holding a pack of beer, he looked majestic. 

"Who is... _that_?" 

Zoro was still lively after the pretty likely possibility of having his head smashed to pieces against the dashboard, but he managed to let out a chuckle. 

"Your jaw's on your lap, Drake. You've got two seconds to get yourself together." 

The car stopped right in front of the tall silhouette. As he got in, a wave of ice-cold air hit the pleasantly warm inside of the vehicle. 

"It's freezing," he said, making himself comfortable on the seat next to Zoro. "Thanks for picking me up." 

Drake could feel the stranger's gaze at the back of his neck, and he didn't dare to turn around and introduce himself. He couldn't recall the boy from school, he must have been from a different area, but still, Zoro behaved as if he knew the guy. 

"Ready to repeat the last party?" 

_So they do know each other_ , Drake thought. A slight feeling of sadness crept into his heart, since he was hardly ever invited to any of the after-school events. 

"Didn't you end up drunk on the roof, Zoro? 

A long pause followed Thatch's question, during which Drake was able to go through all of the possible outcomes of this situation. Should he turn around and activate his natural charm? Or should he just pretend he's not there? 

"Maybe so," Zoro said begrudgingly and fell back to his seat. "But I still had fun." 

"Sure. Hawkins, meet Drake. We're in the same school." 

_Thank you God for Thatch._

"Hello," Drake finally spun around and shook the guy's hand. Just now he noticed the black cross tattooed at the base of his neck. He immediately thought it was awesome, but Hawkins must have misinterpreted his gaze. 

"Cringy enough?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"What? N-no, I like it!" 

Zoro cackled loudly at the confused expression on Drake's face and cheeks flushed with pure red. He just couldn't help it - the blonde had this kind of aura around him, both a little intimidating but also one of the most alluring ones he's ever encountered. 

"You heard the kid, Hawkins? He  _likes_ it." 

_Oh, God._


	4. Chapter 4

His eyes followed the movements of Nami's legs as she danced on the table. The table he was sitting at, just to be precise. 

A loud whistle emerged from somewhere, turning out to be Kid's doing when the host sat heavily beside Drake. In one hand he held a glass of vodka. 

"That's what I'm talking about!" the redhead yelled when Nami rubbed her palms along the skin of her thighs, shifting so that her abdomen was almost at the same level as Kid's eyes. She kept dancing to the beat of the song, and Drake had to admit that the smooth ways in which her hips moved were hypnotizingly beautiful. 

The rest of the party was just as much pumped-up - all around them, people were chatting and necking shots one by one, loud pop music flowing from the TV in the center of the room. Drake couldn't help but feel a little light-headed from the alcoholic scent already lingering in the air, but he forced himself to ignore it.

Kid's house was at the suburbs, but he had a lot of neighbours nonetheless - very considerate neighbours, it seemed, since none of them complained about the noise just yet, despite the hour being a rather late one in the night. 

Nami smirked when their host purred as the girl's fingers tangled in his hair, ruffling them. Her dancing skills were truly worth appreciating. Finally Kid had enough of, what Drake would call, their public foreplay, as he grabbed the girl by her hips and put her on the ground; arm immediately diving around her neck as they made their way upstairs. 

Looks like the host's out already. 

Since he wasn't in a particular mood to go crazy, he decided to retreat from the center of the room and settle on the couch while squeezing a cup of water in one hand - observing the crowd. Someone had to stay sober in this mess. 

His eyes drifted to Hawkins, who was currently checking out the drinking competition between no one other than Sanji and Zoro, the boys looking absolutely smitten already as they gulped down the shots and sent each other challenging stares. 

Despite his whole surroundings having almost no restraints about how loud they talked or how much alcohol they spilled onto the floor, Hawkins seemed to be hovering above all of them with his sharp eyes, straight posture and stoic expression. At this point, Drake already knew what was up with his brain relentlessly sending all those thoughts. 

 _I'm not getting a crush on that guy_ , he thought, sipping on his water. Whenever he was nervous - which, considering all of the social situations he found himself in, meant always - he had to have some kind of a drink to sip on, it just calmed him down. 

His hawk stare seemed to draw the blonde's attention because Drake barely managed to look away when Hawkins made his way towards him. 

"May I?" he asked, pointing at the seat on the couch next to Drake. 

_Oh, God, oh, God, help me. Don't mess it up._

Instead of giving a simple answer, like every normal person would do, Drake just buried his face in the almost-empty cup of water and nodded vigorously without a word. At that point, he knew that no prayers and no God will be able to save him from the embarrassment that was soon to take place - as soon as he opens his mouth. 

"Drake, right?" 

"Yes! Yes," the boy stuttered out, crumpling the cup in his hands. "And you're Hawkins?" 

 _Of course he is_ , Drake scolded himself. _As if I could forget that._

The blonde nodded. "I'll be honest with you, parties don't really relax me. It's too noisy in here."

"Same." 

And with that word, Drake was ready to call it a night and feel proud for his social skills. But somehow, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he wasted just another opportunity to make  a new friend - especially since he wasn't the popular type at all. 

Fortunately, before he had to come up with a pathetic excuse of an attempt for a conversation, Hawkins turned out to be a literal gift from heaven once again. 

"You look like you need a drink. Or a couple of them." 

Drake forced out a smirk. "Oh, I don't do drinks. But I can bring you one," he added the last part a little bit too quickly and too enthusiastically, but the blonde didn't seem to mind. 

"I think Ace has hidden some rum before." 

This gave him a rush of new energy, as if he was Frodo sent on a quest. Leaving his new buddy on the couch, he started making his way among the crowd in a desperate search for a particular goon. 

He found him outside, hunched over by a tree in the garden. It was late in the night, and the previous chilly wind turned the air freezing cold - this kind of cold that seeped through clothing and nibbled at any part of an exposed skin. 

And there was Ace, his mouth wide open with a huge amount of smoke swirling inside. He looked as if he mixed snorting cocaine with a few sips of an energy drink and gulped it all down with bleach. 

"A-Ace?" Drake asked, walking closer. "What the heck are you doing?" 

The boy watched in horror as Ace slowly moved his eyes to rest on him, the goon's face twisting into a delirious grin. And then he nodded, seemingly satisfied with his own reaction. 

Drake managed to swat away the joint before his friend got to inhale again. 

"You've got narcolepsy, for Christ's sake! You don't need weed!" 

"Shhh~" Ace raised his arms, almost in defence, but it was doubtful he was actually able to register such strong emotions, let alone participate in a rational exchange. "Dude, you're scaring them away~" 

Drake's first reaction was to freeze. And then he slowly looked around the empty garden. 

"Scaring  _who_ away, exactly?" 

But Ace was long lost already, leaning to the side until he plopped to the ground with a blunt  _Thump!_  and curled into a ball, snoring happily. Just then, a few bottles of rum and vodka were revealed from behind his back, stacked neatly into a pile. 

Drake sighed. 


	5. Chapter 5

"Thanks, Koala. I didn't know what to do with him." 

"Oh, don't worry. He'll be in good hands," the girl responded, watching Sabo drag his brother up the stairs with his arms sneaked underneath Ace's. At some point, the freckled goon's head hit the edge of a stair, but Sabo pretended he didn't notice it, continuing to haul him up. 

"It's barely 10 p.m and he's out! What an idiot," Koala growled and stormed up the stairs after the siblings.

Drake felt glad he wasn't in Ace's place. 

With a bottle of rum in one hand and water in the other, he started going back to where he left Hawkins waiting. He hoped the blonde didn't leave yet, or Drake might as well prepare to spend the rest of his life alone. 

Thankfully, he was there, sitting in the exact same spot on the couch. The party around him seemed a bit calmer than before, the courtesy of some people already passing out on the floor. 

"There you go." He handed him the rum. "Sorry it took so long, I've had some...problems with Ace." 

"I figured that much." 

With a deep sigh, Drake plopped down beside him. Only then did he realize his heart's been pounding fast, an anxious knot tying itself in his gut. So he did the best thing he could come up with - took a huge gulp from the bottle of water he stole, or rather,  _borrowed_ , from Ace. 

Suddenly his throat clenched when the impossible burn ran through it. He spit it out, but it was already too late - the sour taste of vodka roamed around his mouth and lips, the smell taking over his senses and making him want to vomit. 

"Hey, you alright?" 

Hawkins' words were barely registered as Drake struggled to stand up, seeking an exit to the outdoors. He had to get some fresh air,  _immediately_. 

He waved dismissively at the blonde who was ready to walk him out, mumbling some explanation under his breath and staggering out on wobbly legs. His lips became dry, overrun with the gross taste. But a million times worse was the smell - the smell he knew all too well, smell he recognized from the late hours in the night, smell that still lingered in the air in the mornings. 

Gasping, he finally made it outside and leaned over the wall at the back of the house. There was no one there, thank God, as he slowly slid down and sat on the ground, face hidden in his hands. 

 _Breathe_ , he thought.  _Breathe and calm down._

One good thing that came out of it was that he barely registered the cold air that flew through his lungs now, pleasantly relaxing him and making the horrific feeling fade a bit, all while surrounded by relative silence. 

He rested his head back against the wall and looked up to the sky. The sight of stars that he grew so fond of observing over the past few years would be more than welcome at that timing, but unfortunately gray clouds managed to cover them all. 

Breaking the silence, the phone buzzed suddenly in his pocket. Upon seeing the caller, the panic started rising in his throat once again, this time with double force. 

"Hi, da-" 

"Where  _are_ you?" 

Drake took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The voice on the other side of the call was rough, angry, far too loud to be of a sober person. 

"Still at a party, I told y-" 

"You're coming back,  _right now_. Are you out of your goddamn mind?! You think I'll just let you sleep over a stranger's house, as if you didn't have your own?" 

"But it's still early. And I wasn't planning on sleeping here, you know-" 

"You  _will_ be here in 20 minutes. Otherwise I'm throwing all of this shit in your room out of the window. You're such a fucking idiot, you weren't raised right." 

A huge bump appeared in his throat, almost preventing him from forming coherent words. He could imagine  _him_ , standing in his room and rummaging through his stuff, the only things that were his, and his only. The only illusion of privacy he ever had. 

"But why? I told you it's still early and I-" 

"And I  _said_  I'm waiting at home. For fuck's sake, what's the matter with you?! Stupid piece of-" 

His trembling hands acted faster than his mind could, moving the phone away from his ear and listening in to the indistinct shouts for a short while before hanging up. 

He looked up to the sky again, this time feeling a familiar bolt spiking through his nose and making the tears fall into his cheeks. His head pounded, hands still shaking and breathing ragged. It was hard to catch a breath, almost impossible. He started to suffocate and choke on his own tears, all while surrounded by the merciless silence of the night, the fact that his mouth was still sour after the gulp of vodka not helping in the slightest. Again, he was completely and utterly alone. 

 _Breathe,_ he thought, but it wasn't helping anymore. His chest clenched and he gave up trying to calm himself down. An untold number of panic attacks he already lived through caused this to be a familiar experience - but what made it incomparably worse than all the others was the whole gathering of people behind the wall. People different than his father, who made sure Drake's whole world revolved around him,  _kind_ people; and yet, he didn't find the strength to reach out and ask for help. 

"Mother, where are you? Where are you when I need you?" His voice was barely above a whisper, the tears he choked on again making the questions impossible to understand. Eyes were stuck on the gray firmament - he wished he could disappear somewhere among it. 

His chest was still heavying unsteadily up and down, but inhaling and exhaling started to become more natural, a tad easier than seconds before. He focused on filling his lungs with air again. 

"Drake?" 

He flinched hard - not in surprise, but in fear. Usually it was a certain person who decided to humiliate him even during his panic attack, to the point where it became a habit to expect it. 

The blonde hesitantly checked him out. Drake couldn't see his face expression due to the night being completely dark at that point, the lights of the garden far too faint to help. 

"You disappeared for so long." Hawkins stated, walking closer. "Everything okay?" 

Even then Drake tried to hide his condition, cursing his hands for still trembling hard and his cheeks turning red. Of course, there was the question. He didn't know why he reacted so repulsively to it - maybe because it felt so weird to finally hear it, after wishing for someone to ask it out of pure worry for so many years. No one  _ever_ asked if everything was okay. 

Nothing was okay. 

"Yes," he said, trying to sound casual. "Just needed some air." 

Hawkins stood there, as if contemplating whether to accept that answer or keep on nagging. 

"You didn't look okay when you stormed out of the house. I assume you're not a fan of alcohol." 

"I told you that before." 

Drake took a deep breath and crossed his arms when the boy suddenly walked over and sat beside him. The faint smell of perfume hit his nostrils - rather  _overpowering_ perfume, but Drake thanked God for that and let it take over his senses. It felt so new, so different. 

"Whatever happened to you..." Hawkins muttered, his gaze stuck on the distant city lights. "-I don't need to know the whole story. But you're still shaking. No one could possibly react this strong to alcohol without a  _serious_ reason." 

Drake decided to keep quiet, mainly because if he tried to open his mouth, he would have started crying immediately. And that wasn't something he was eager to do, especially in front of a stranger. 

"Whatever," the blonde scoffed after a long while of silence. 

Drake expected him to just get up and leave, but he didn't move from his place on the ground. The warmth that radiated from him must have been imaginative, since their shoulders barely touched, but it still felt incredibly good. As if just the mere presence of a kind person brought some relief upon the burden on his chest. 

He didn't remember the last time he was so close with someone - maybe because it never happened before - and when that realization hit him, another wave of pure distress washed over his heart, threatening to trigger a second panic attack. 

 _Please,_ he prayed.  _Don't push me away. Please._

With the last bit of hope, Drake bit down on his lip and reached his hand out. 

It was still very much shaking, but he wasn't sure what was the cause anymore - not when a warm touch took over his palm and engulfed it completely. 

Drake tried to restrain himself when breath got stuck in his throat at the contact, but soon gave up on it when tears flowed despite his deepest efforts. 

Neither of them said a word to break the silence - they just stared off into the dark night together. 


	6. Chapter 6

"It's his dad." 

"Don't pick it up. Silence it." 

"Why? He's got like a dozen of missed calls from him already." 

"Whatever, just give me that phone." 

Drake finally managed to snap back into consciousness, peeking through half-lifted eyelids. He was still at the back of the house, resting against the wall - his limbs were stiff but surprisingly not cold, due to the fluffy blanket covering his whole frame. 

The two voices that woke him up turned out to be Kid's and Hawkins', the boys standing near but still not yet aware that he's awake. 

Drake instinctively looked up to the sky, only to see it tinted gray instead of black - it was still early, before sunrise for sure. 

"Oi, there's our sleeping beauty!" Kid smirked from afar. "Dude, I managed to get laid  _twice_ and I still woke up earlier than you." 

Nothing more than a tired hum left his mouth as Drake slowly stretched, standing up and carefully folding the blanket. It was pleasantly warm, he almost regretted he had to give it back to whoever the owner was. 

And then, memories from the night washed over him in a single wave - but surprisingly, he felt more relieved than scared; after all, for the first time since he could remember, he woke up being safe and far away from  _him_. 

"Keep the blanket," Hawkins said, shooting him a glare. "It's still cold." 

"Not for me." 

Drake managed to send him a sleepy smirk, flaunting an eyebrow and throwing the fluffy material towards the blonde. He caught it, not without a faint glimmer of surprise in his eyes that was soon covered by the constant, stoic expression. 

"Suit yourself. I don't want to freeze out here." And with those words, Hawkins wrapped the blanket around himself. 

Only then did Drake realize Kid was still standing beside, his gaze traveling back and forth between the two of them, mouth slightly opened. 

"Woah, woah,  _woah_!" He raised his arms in confusion. "Hold the _fuck_ up!" 

Whatever the previous topic of their conversation was, Hawkins seemed to have considered it already discussed and closed, as he rolled his eyes. 

"Yes, we know we're one of the few people not completely hungover. Yes, we will make your groceries and help clean up. We've went through it-"

"No, I meant- Did you two fuck or something?" 

Kid's question hung in the air like a guillotine. The sleepiness was immediately kicked out of Drake's system as his eyes opened widely in surprise - and also in complete embarrassment. 

"You deduced that from the fact that he gave me a blanket?" Hawkins asked, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"Well, who knows what you did under that bl-"

"You've got issues, Kid." 

And with those words, the blonde turned around on his heel and walked into the house, mumbling something about grabbing eco-friendly shopping bags. 

"I don't have any issues," Kid murmured and followed him, leaving Drake alone in the garden. 

Later on, when he was seated comfortably in Thatch's car, Hawkins insisted on driving instead of waking up the brunette who so kindly gave them a lift yesterday - mainly because he was deeply asleep, passed out on the couch and snoring in bliss. 

In his hand, Drake crumpled a shopping list; since none of the remaining people were particularly eager to return home on such a chilly but still beautiful Sunday, someone had to buy groceries for breakfast - apparently Kid didn't know what  _planning ahead_  meant, since his fridge was stuffed with only alcohol and, hell knows why, frozen cucumbers. 

"Can I have my phone back?" Drake asked, breaking the admittedly comfortable silence. 

"No," his friend said, turning the wheel.

Before any more questions could be asked, the blonde hit the radio and the upbeat flow of music washed away the last bits of worry Drake had about contacting his dad. 

_Had to have high, high hopes for a living_  
Didn't know how but I always had a feeling  
I was gonna be that one in a million  
Always had high, high hopes

A wash of relief took over his heart and, before he knew it, he was already tapping fingers to the rhythm, body swaying softly. With the corner of his eye, he saw Hawkins smirk a little. 

The black cross at the base of his neck drew his attention once again - Drake made a mental note to ask about it later. 

_Mama said_  
Burn your biographies  
Rewrite your history  
Light up your wildest dreams  
Museum victories, everyday  
We wanted everything, wanted everything

When they finally reached the store and walked through the parking lot together, a weird but pleasing feeling spread warmth around his heart. Was that how normal life felt? Was that what normal people do? Stroll around without the constant pressure to avoid making any kind of triggering statement or involuntarily starting a fight over nothing of such importance? 

"You look like you've never been to a grocery store before," Hawkins teased with just a hint of smirk. "Do all those veggies and expired porridge for babies really make you so smitten?" 

A pout appeared on Drake's lips, causing the other male to scoff as he grabbed the shopping cart. "I knew it." 

"You're so full of yourself," Drake muttered and looked around the first aisle on his right - bakery. He began strolling along it while pretending to be deeply in thought about the variety of goods in front of him; and then he started throwing random sandwiches into the cart. "Try to keep up."

Hawkins grabbed a single donut with sprinkles and placed it on the still-growing pile of Drake's careful choosings. "Are you even looking at the list? Kid gave us money to-" 

"Relax. And Kid's not here anyway, is he?" Drake smirked, the tone of his voice surprising himself. It was light and teasing, almost cheerful - and it made him feel absolutely incredible. 

His mood didn't drop even a little bit as they rummaged through the store, whether paying attention to the shopping list or not, it didn't matter. 

"Whaddya need a damn coconut for?" Drake asked, picking the fruit up from the cart. 

"You never know. Put it back." 

They stared at each other, eyebrows raised and gaze challenging - until Drake spotted a shelf full of ready meals with the corner of his eye, immediately breaking the eye contact and putting the coconut back - in a flash, he was grabbing fried chicken with rice and throwing it into the cart. 

Pleased with himself, he looked for Hawkins. And he found him standing before a huge fridge of ice-cream, his gaze stuck on the top shelf. 

"Aw," Drake snorted, coming up from behind his back. "Someone's too short to reach his ice cream?~" 

The blonde observed with furrowed eyebrows as Drake reached out with ease and grabbed the pack of neapolitan. 

"My effort, my choice of flavour." 

The brunette seemingly feeling as if he's won the exchange, pushing the cart forward to move on to the next aisle. 

"You surely weren't so confident when you wanted me to hold your hand." 

Drake freezed at those words. His friend immediately thought he's pushed too far, but the strong tint of blush on Drake's face suggested otherwise - and thank God for that. The rest of the shopping they did in silence, although when Hawkins had to pass him at the checkout and he absent-mindedly placed a hand at the small of his back, it felt as if Drake leaned towards the touch rather than tried to escape it. 

_He craves physical contact_ , Hawkins noted while observing his friend's steady movements as he packed the groceries. And then he noticed just another thing - the movements he previously labeled as steady weren't exactly that; they were careful, much too careful, as if Drake feared making any sudden gestures. 

The blond man furrowed his eyebrows but didn't speak a word of it as they both made their way back to the car. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

"I had the time-" Ace cackled loudly in the middle of his own sentence and leaned over towards Kid sitting next to him. "- _of my life!_ " 

The redhead just brushing him off, his mind occupied with wolfing down the cabbage rolls that were so generously bought for him. 

Peeking around the post-apocalyptic kitchen, Drake hoped he looked better than most of the remaining guests who were either half-asleep or hungover, or both, as in Thatch's case.

Sabo presenting himself a tad better, a faint shade of dark under his eyes as if he didn't catch any sleep that night and his hair completely ruffled, but other than that, he seemed rather pleased. Shooting glances in between the blonde sibling and Koala, currently sitting on Sabo's lap and munching on a sandwich, Drake would say they both had a blissful time behind them. 

 Ace, however, was a completely different case, the boy looking stoned, drunk and sleep-deprived all at the same time. Somehow, much to Drake's surprise, he was the most energetic one in the kitchen. 

"-and then we made out again, y'all! Can you believe-" 

"Ace, for the love of God," Thatch finally snapped with a piece of donut sticking in the corner of his mouth. "I love you more than I love myself but please, shut the hell up. My head hurts." 

This seemed to work for at least a few seconds, the freckled goon looking a bit embarrassed as he buried his face in the pack of ice-cream. 

It was the first time Drake felt as if he actually belonged somewhere, no longer being the one out of place. He tried really hard to keep this warm feelings without letting any of the usual anxiety to get to him, but he was already losing control of his thoughts. It was only a matter of time befo-

Someone nudged him under the rib. 

"Hey, what's with the pout? Do I really have to drive you all the way back to the grocery store to see that smile again?" 

Drake looked at the blonde who was currently hunched over a bowl of cookies, his silky hair as effortlessly sleek as always. He felt his own body betraying him as it leaned to brush against the other male's shoulder. 

"You're unusually observant today," Drake retorted, flashing a smirk, gaze boring into those red eyes. 

"Maybe I always am." 

Only after a short while of getting lost in that magnetic stare of his did Drake realize the whole kitchen was completely quiet. A wave of dread immediately washed over him, cheeks burning up with embarrassment. 

" _Damn_ ," Kid murmured, half-eaten cabbage rolls long forgotten on the table in front of him. "That's what I call a good, ol' foreplay." 

"Didn't you get laid like a few hours ago, man?" Ace asked. His hazy stare finally unglued from Drake, but not without some effort. "Stop being so horny." 

 _Thank you God for Ace_ , Drake thought. 

"They'll end up banging each other anyway, without your dumb comments." 

"That's it," Thatch vigorously stood up from the table at Ace's words and immediately regretted it, massaging his temples. Seems like the hangover was still getting to him. "I'm gonna play some video games to forget about all of you." 

The brunette turned to Kid. "I hope you have a goddamn PC, dude." 

It turned out Kid not only had a goddamn PC, he also owned an Xbox and a rather large collection of games too. Killing, yelling, destroying and more killing seemed to be the main theme of the vast majority of them, but Drake wasn't going to complain. 

When they all came to the agreement that, indeed, a nice video-game session to brainwash themselves was a good idea to spend an afternoon on, they sprawled across the whole living room in front of the TV - Kid, as a host, started off with a Call of Duty marathon.

Since Drake wasn't really into this topic, from the lack of opportunities to brush up on his gaming skills, he made himself comfortable on the floor from where he had a good view on the TV screen - where Kid and Thatch were already wrecking havoc, wielding their pads as weapons. 

"Die, scum!" Kid yelled towards the screen.

Drake accidentally caught Sabo's glare across the room - the blonde mouthing  _"It's gonna be a long Sunday"_ in his direction. 

He couldn't help but admit the boy was absolutely right. 


	8. Chapter 8

"No, don't go over there!" Ace yelped, squinting his eyes in fear. "He's behind the corner!" 

Despite Kid assuring them that  _Outlast_  was "a game for whiners", Drake had to admit it was a strong one. Sabo being the one holding a pad and steering the main character, the fact that it was already getting darker behind the windows not really lifting up the overall mood. 

Ace was the most scared one, that was out of question, with Koala following closely behind on the Scared Shitless Scale - her nails digging into Sabo's shoulder as she sat right behind him on the couch, her body pressing against his. 

"Scared much?"

Drake flinched a little at Hawkins muttering in his ear. He surely wasn't used to this kind of closeness as the male occupied a seat on the floor beside him. 

"You wish," he retorted, forcing out a brave tone. Admittedly, more than the game itself scared him the perspective of facing his father - since Hawkins still hadn't returned his phone, not that Drake particularly wanted to get it back, the consequences could be bigger than what he would be able to withstand. 

"I wonder what's bothering you so much." 

A strand of blond hair brushed against his arm and Drake had to restrain himself from touching it. It must have been really soft. 

He couldn't help but think that Hawkins might, only  _might_  have been the one to understand - but what if he doesn't care enough to help? And besides, how could Drake even want to pass such an emotional burden to his friend? 

"I just...don't want to go home. That's it." 

Hawkins nodded, as if he already understood everything. The shouts of their friends ringed somewhere in the distance and despite the blonde's voice being rather low and quiet, it was crystal clear to Drake. 

"You don't have to." 

That was it, that was all it took to make his heart clench with emotion. He didn't have to go home. He didn't  _have to_. 

"You can always crash at Kid's place, you know that," Hawkins continued, leaning over Drake's ear so that he wouldn't disturb the others, currently focused on the game. "Or at mine." 

Drake peeked over at his friend in surprise. A shiver ran down his spine when he met his eyes.

"What?" he just asked quietly, afraid he somehow misunderstood. 

"You heard me." 

He forced himself to look away, half-attentive of what the rest of his friends were shouting. 

"Fuck!" Ace screeched, now jumping on the couch in fear, his eyes glued to the screen. "He got us! Run, you fool!" 

"I'm trying!" his brother shouted over him, trying to keep his balance and not drop the pad from his hands, buds of sweat glistening on his forehead. "Get off the damn couch, Ace!" 

"Look out-" Koala gasped when the music changed to a lively rhythm, which meant that someone was chasing the main character. 

"The music changed!" Ace suddenly plopped down on the couch behind Sabo, as if all energy had been drained out of his system. "The music changed-" 

Meanwhile, Kid and Thatch were just observing the screen silently, both of them reaching for the same bowl of popcorn. 

Drake couldn't help but snicker upon witnessing this ridiculous scene. Hawkins words were still ringing in his mind, but he didn't dare to give him an answer yet. Instead, he reached for his hand, this time a little bit braver than the first. 

He exhaled with relief when the blonde reciprocated the touch, squeezing into it lightly. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

He cursed when the door creaked open. 

After a few, awful seconds he tried again, this time even slower - and when the gap was wide enough for him to sneak through, he entered his house. 

It was around 5 a.m, both him and Hawkins choosing this hour as the least dangerous one; most of the people were deeply asleep, which must have included his father as well. 

As he tiptoed through the corridor, avoiding the panels on the floor that he knew had the tendency to squeak, he prayed to his mother, to God himself, to  _anything_ that is out there to let him survive this - he had to get out of his house unnoticed, preferably not beaten to a bloody pulp and on a stretcher. 

He almost laughed; the situation was so dreadful, it started posing as more of a hysterical one. 

Drake left his father's room behind him, directing his steps towards his own place. It was so quiet, the silence ringed in his ears. 

All he had to do was grab his backpack, stuff all of the school textbooks as well as items that held some kind of sentimental value in it and leave. The last point was definitely his favorite.

Maths, history, physics, chemistry - it all followed as he feverishly shifted to packing his valuables; not that there were many. A sketch journal hidden behind the chest of drawers, few of his favorite books, a wallet with all of his savings and an ID, as well as dinosaur figurines and a baby seal plushie he couldn't fall asleep without.

His gaze stopped on the Jurassic Park poster on the wall - he dismissed the thought immediately. Tearing it off would have made too much noise. 

Finally, the last thing was secured inside the backpack. Drake sighed with relief, his back facing the door. 

 _Calm down,_ he thought.  _Follow the plan._

Hawkins was waiting in the car outside. He was so close; a kind person, his literal lifeline. Drake couldn't believe he got to meet a friend like that, let alone that he was worthy of someone's help. But maybe, just maybe, there was some hope left for him. 

The door closed with a loud  _Bang!_. 

"There you are." 

He flinched in horror and turned around as quickly as he could - but not quickly enough. A harsh tug caused him to stagger and a familiar grip clenched on the collar of his jumper. 

"So you came back now, huh?" his father hummed, pushing him towards the wall with force. "You hung up on me. You didn't return my calls. You didn't text me. I couldn't sleep, I was worried  _sick!_ " 

He accented the last word with grabbing him again, this time throwing him off balance to almost smash against the desk. 

Drake's heart felt as if it was about to leap out of his throat - his whole body went from behaving as stealthily as possible to suddenly shaking with dread. Even without his father's grip on him, his legs were barely able to support his weight. 

He kept quiet due to the familiar bump preventing him from forming out his voice, let alone calling for someone's help. 

He noticed his father's eyes flickering to the stuffed backpack, somehow still tightly held in Drake's hand. 

"Oh, playing a runaway?" he asked again, grabbing him by the collar and lifting up from the floor. "And where were you planning to go? You wouldn't survive  _a day_ on your own." 

 _Help me_ , Drake prayed.  _Please, help me._

He knew Hawkins couldn't hear him, he doubted he would even if he screamed - his pride pushed him to at least show a little bit of resistance, but his body refused to cooperate. It was overrun with fear, completely paralyzed, his lungs clenched. 

"How could you even do this to me? After everything I've done to raise you," the man continued, his voice coated with emotion. "I've never heard an apology, for all those nerves that you cost me." 

With the last bit of common sense, Drake remembered about the phone in his pocket. But even if he managed to pull it out, his father would just snatch it away. 

His gaze swept along the window - what if he jumped out? It was the second floor, he might have even avoided breaking his limbs. 

 _No, this is madness_ , he thought, and a painful burn exploded in his side. He tried to get out of his father's range, and maybe it was the adrenaline rushing through his veins, or maybe just pure desperation - his body finally listened to his pleads and lifted his weight. 

"Where do you think you're going?" 

Drake tried to ignore his father's stinging words - treating them as incoherent sentences without any real meaning. He dove from a swing of his fist and launched towards the door. 

 _Run_ , his brain gave a familiar command.  _Run._

His nails dug painfully into the strap of the backpack as he sprinted onto the corridor and to the exit - when something hit him on the shoulder, throwing him off balance again and causing to scrape against the wall. 

He didn't dare to turn around, yet alone take a deeper breath - he ran into the furniture, faltered and knocked it over, but it all smeared into a blur; his gaze was stuck on the door. 

"Come back here!" 

It was a miracle his legs didn't buckle underneath him yet as he commanded them to work, just for a little bit longer. 

 _Please,_  he thought.  _He's waiting for me._

He bursted outside, immediately making his way towards the Impala parked nearby. When he saw his friend waiting with the door to the passenger's seat already opened, he almost broke down. Almost - he still wasn't safe. 

Drake first threw the backpack inside and slammed the door behind him as he staggered into his seat, the car taking off in an instant. 

For a long while, the only sound audible in the small space was his ragged breathing. His friend's eyes stuck on the road. 

"It was your last visit in that house," Hawkins finally said, hands clenching on the wheel. "Believe me." 


	10. Chapter 10

He barely remembered anything from the entire week that followed - but it wasn't anything new. Memories tended to just disappear from his mind, especially the ones he knew he wouldn't be able to bear for long. 

"I have to go back," he said during one of the mornings at Hawkins' flat. "I can't leave him like this." 

His host was standing by his side, sleeves rolled up all the way to his elbows and the long hair scattered freely along his back - Drake noticed he  _never_ tied it up - as he scrubbed another plate. 

"Yes, you can," he said simply, which seemed to become a habit of his already.

Drake stared at the pile of veggies in front of him on the cutboard, a hand in which he held the knife trembling impossibly. 

 _Do it slowly,_  he instructed himself. _Everything's okay._

But it was one of the few things he was never able to convince himself about. His father, as violent and unreasonable as he became, was the only topic playing on repeat in his mind for the past days - days during which Drake woke up terrified on an unfamiliar couch, only to realize he's safe here, with  _him_. 

"He is as he is," Drake mumbled, holding a green pepper with one palm and finally managing to reach it with the knife. "But he's done so much for me. He paid money an-" 

"Hey." 

His host finished with the dishes, leaving them to dry up as he moved to check on the boiling soup on the stove, wiping his hands against the purple apron he had on. Drake never thought anyone can look cute with an apron on, but apparently, it  _was_  possible. 

"I'm not saying it'll be easy to cut him from your life, which, as you already know, would be the best option in my opinion," the blonde continued calmly, taking a sip of the soup. He seemed satisfied with the taste as he held the spoon out for Drake. "Try it." 

It was spicy and aromatic, but more than on the soup, he focused on trying to suppress the blush already tinting his cheeks with pink. The innocent action may have not bothered Hawkins at all, but for him, it was like discovering a completely new world of human interaction filled with freedom and ease other than with constant fear. 

"It's good," he said, sending him a sad smile. "Kid's going to love it." 

Hawkins didn't say a word but a faint, proud smirk formed on his lips at the compliment. It felt so good to be able to make others happy. Up until now, Drake was focused purely on surviving - bringing other people joy wasn't exactly his priority. 

"-but," Hawkins continued his previous statement as if nothing happened. "You're still pretty shaken. You're not thinking straight, even though it's been a few days. And do you know why is that?" 

Suddenly the host left what he was doing and turned to Drake, red eyes seeking eye contact. 

"Because he's an abuser," the blonde stated, voice unwavering. "It's hard to run away from people like that. Especially when they're the only memory left from a family you once had. Or you wished you did." 

Drake could feel his jaw clenching impossibly, to the point where it hurt. He instructed himself to focus on the stupid pepper in front of him - he cut off a piece, and then another one, all while staring stubbornly on its green surface. All to no avail, it seemed, since his vision got blurry and before he knew it, the tears ran down his cheeks. But he didn't stop in the action, it was just harder to force the calmness onto his heart, which he desperately tried to do for the past decade or so. 

"You have to clear your mind of him. To make decisions. To be in control of your life." 

Drake felt something warm wrapping around his waist and pressing his whole body firmly against another one - and it was enough to make him cry harder than he had in a long time. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

"Aye,  _papi_ , you totally rockin' that apron." 

Kid gladly accepted the bowl of soup now placed in front of him and immediately started wolfing it down - gaze wandering to the TV screen on the wall where the music video to  _Women Like Me_  was playing. 

Drake let out what was a tiniest growl from behind his own meal - he could tolerate many things, but he wasn't sure hearing his host being called  _papi_ was one of them. Although, he had to admit, it awakened a tingly feeling in his stomach; finally unrestrained, it was strong and exciting, since Drake didn't have the privilege of experiencing it for such a long time. 

" _Woah_ , dude," Kid raised his arms defensively. "Blondes aren't my thing, don't ya worry." 

But his gaze seemed to be saying otherwise, now glued to Perrie on the TV. 

"'Wonder if he'd ever say that about Killer," Apoo leaned in, muttering into Drake's ear and out of the redhead's range. 

They just met - apparently he and Hawkins went to the same school together. How they knew Kid, Drake had no idea. Probably the same case as with Zoro - if you party often enough, you get to know  _everyone_. 

 _I made a few mistakes, I regret it nightly_  
I broke a couple hearts that I wear on my sleeve  
My momma always said, "Girl, you're trouble" and  
And now I wonder, could you fall for a woman like me

Drake let himself observe his host hustling around the kitchen for a little bit longer; his majestic hair, the stoic expression and firm posture as he added a bit of curry to the main dish, it all made him feel so warm inside. Then, he was already standing up from the table and collecting the empty plates. 

"Sit down. I'll take care of it," Drake smiled, brushing against the blonde. He felt his hand rest at the small of his back - an action seemingly casual, but carrying so much meaning, at least for Drake. Physical contact was okay. Physical contact was supposed to feel good. 

 _Tell 'em there's a bad Trini bitch inna your area_  
But the more bad bitches, then the more merrier  
Baddies to my left and to the right a little scarier  
Rude boy, tell me, can you handle all this derrière? 

So he stood there, arms buried in the sink and decorated with soap bubbles as he observed the commotion in the living room - Hawkins' flat was small but definitely cozy, far beyond perfect. Drake learned that his host's parents were currently abroad but had no restrains to trust their son enough to let him take care of the property on his own.

The three of his friends -  _friends? It sounded so weird_  - were now bickering over themselves and Nicky on the TV, trying to determine at whose place they're going to eat tomorrow. It looked like it already became their routine to be preparing meals for each other; in Kid's case, it was more about just ordering take-out, since he had negative skills in cooking. 

"We can just get some ramen," Kid mewled, eyes rolling in annoyance. "It's not the end of the world. Besides, we've got that Jurassic Park nerd now, he knows how to cook." 

"How can I even trust that you'll be able to order ramen on your own? Last time it was so spi-" 

"Last time is not this time!" 

" _Gentlemen_ ," Hawkins finally cut the two off with his grave-like voice. "We can just order it together. There's no problem-" 

"There  _is_ a problem and we're calmly discussing it right now!" 

"Exactly," Apoo confirmed Kid's words, nodding vigorously. "We have to talk about what's bothering us." 

"You're bothering me," Kid mumbled and flicked the channels on TV. 

Drake observed all that in silence, a small smirk on his lips. It felt different, experiencing a fight that didn't seem to go in a very violent direction,  _at least for now._

Being called a Jurassic Park nerd was also something else, usually he was ridiculed because of his obsession, but Kid it made it sound like it's just another one of what makes him,  _him_. Maybe he was taking it too far, Drake didn't know. And for once, he didn't mind that at all. 

"How's the dinosaur nerd doing?" 

Just then he realized Hawkins had been standing behind him, observing the thorough process of Drake's dish-washing. He was close, close enough to smell his perfume and feel the slow inhales and exhales the blonde seemed to be sending right on Drake's neck. 

"Almost done," he responded, trying to sound casual, the quarreling of the other two boys ringing somewhere in the distance. "Listen, I can't thank you enough for all-" 

"Oh, cut it out. You would have done the same for me." 

Drake finally found the courage to look the blonde in the eyes - he was never as  _available_ as at that time. He scanned his thin lips, the tattoo on his neck that he once again forgot to ask about, the blond hair he adored so much. 

He could have just scooped closer to him, as he usually did. He could have leaned over him for support in order to feel a person's warmth - safe and pleasant. But Drake was tired of holding back, hiding and thinking things through so often that nothing seemed as a good option anymore. 

So with the wet dish in one hand and a bubbly sponge in the other, he leaned in and kissed him, seizing the opportunity to inhale the male's pleasant smell. 

 It felt, as always, strange - but above all, just so incredibly good. 

The blonde reciprocated the affection with much more enthusiasm than Drake would ever accuse him of having, his lips sliding smoothly against his own. 

"Such a nervous dinosaur," Hawkins muttered, pulling away for a few inches. He picked the dish and the sponge from Drake's sweaty, clenched hands and threw them into the sink, only to go back to the kiss once again. This time, his wet palms wrapping loosely around Drake's waist. 

" _Finally_ some good fucking action!" they heard Kid's yell from the living room, but both decided to ignore it for the sake of drowning in each other's presence for just a little bit longer. 

Drake took a deep inhale as his tongue rubbed over Hawkins' lower lip, his palm growing a mind of its own as it cupped the blonde's cheek and pulled him closer against his mouth. 

It was human, it was warm and it was safe. Drake never felt more alive than at that time.


	12. Chapter 12

"Ow," Drake mewled quietly as the needle pierced his skin. 

The sight of ink now covering half of his chest managed to give him a dozen of mini heart attacks in the past few minutes. He was doing something different, something considered to be forbidden and bad ever since he could remember. And yet it felt as if with every move of the needle, every touch and every sting of pain, he was getting more and more free, his human side finally coming out. 

Long after the tattoo was done, he found himself drowning in the mattress of Hawkins' bed, the male himself straddling him; gaze skimming through Drake's bare chest, now covered with a plastic wrap. 

"It feels good, doesn't it?" the blonde asked. 

"You have no idea." 

Hawkins couldn't help but smirk at the response, his hand coming up to caress the sharp collarbones of his partner's. He was so subtle, so  _refined_ in his every action, it was the most alluring asset he's ever seen in a person. 

Of course, Drake had no idea about that but Hawkins wasn't worried. He had a lot of time to show him love - whether to someone else or to his own self, both were very much needed. 

"Or w-wait, maybe you do-"

He leaned in, careful not to brush along the fresh tattoo on Drake's chest, and claimed his lips in a kiss that provided all the affection he carried in his heart, the adorable stutters swiftly cut off as Drake responded, a new-found layer of energy causing him to act much more daring that usually. 

He tangled his fingers in those golden hair - they really felt as soft as they looked. 


End file.
